


jade vase for a single peony.

by quixoticentity



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticentity/pseuds/quixoticentity
Summary: Just one peony, but it was enough, and before long there were too many to count, spilling over the vase and onto the floor.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Tina "Frost" Lin Tsang
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	jade vase for a single peony.

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna insert my own headcanons about Tina’s heritage, as well as expand her life’s story. I want to flesh her out enough to feel like a real person but without dragging on too much or ruining that subtle mystique of hers. While this is a shippy piece of work, I’ll admit it’s Tina-centric here. Love my waifu.

Her eyes are always creased, right at the very corners, accentuating the slim shape of her eyes.

Not a wrinkle or anything of the sort, but the skin there folds in such a fashion that always fascinates him, mimicking the sweeping curve of her eyelashes.

He watches her every now and then, scrutinizing the details of her face, watching her slip the half-mask to her chin. Tina Lin Tsang. She and Sebastien Cote are the latest additions to Rainbow, so it’s not strange for Maxim to give them a careful onceover. But his gaze always happens to catch in that little crease, hanging at the dark of her pupils, brushed by the bangs of her hair.

When she finally catches his staring, he doesn’t turn away, nor avert his gaze; he’s curious how she’ll react next. She looks right back at him, and with a tilt of her head and a coy expression, Maxim realizes she’s always known that he’s been looking at her.

He’s never looked her fully in the eyes before; there is a certain alertness to them he feels kin to. A constant awareness of the surrounding area, but also a sort of focus that not just anyone has. A hunter. Specifically, one that has found their prey.

She makes her way over to him, eyes locked on his the entire time. It’s predatory, and it’s a little vexing to know that he’s the unwitting prey ensnared in her trap.“Looking is fine, but you can talk to me if you’d like.”Her smile bares a glint of teeth. "I don’t bite.”

Maxim decides she’s good company. They butt heads rather fiercely on the topic of mission handling and ethics, but it’s a passionate discussion they tentatively gain new perspectives on. What they do come to commonality, however, is hunting. As fellow hunters and trappers, they swap stories of their most interesting hunts – she, setting snares in the dense forests of Vancouver Island, and he, prowling for snowy tracks near the Barents Sea.

Whenever he’s tinkering with the design of his EDD, Tina occasionally pops in to join him. Sometimes, she asks about certain mechanics, or even offers suggestions of her own, as limited her knowledge of his devices is. But she’s mostly silent, satisfied in just watching him work. Her eyes shadow his hands, watching intently as he tightens a screw, fastens a part into place. He doesn’t mind; there is a quiet captivation in her gaze, a comfortable appreciation for how deft his fingers work.

One night, looking up from a possible prototype MK III, Maxim asks if she’s ever thought of designing her Sterling trap differently.

“Not much to change. It’s mechanical, and a very simple concept.” She shrugs. “As Trace would say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” 

He raises a brow. “Anything and everything can be improved, if you work at it enough.”

Tina tilts her head back as she laughs, and Maxim can only marvel at such a bright and scornful sound.

“Don’t mistake my excellent design for complacency, Basuda.” She says with wry smile. “I do like to mess around with different schematics, but only for my recreational and hunting traps.” Tina fishes her pockets for her phone, opening her photo album. “Here’s a few I’ve been working on.”

Maxim swipes through the pictures, his expression something akin to impressed. His own work now forgotten, he offers his thoughts on her designs. He, too, enjoys creating trap designs in his spare time, and sharing ideas always helps to bring about possibilities not thought alone. Intrigued, he asks her how she got into trap-making; at that, her face becomes thoughtful.

“My mother – I’m half First Nations.” Her fingers twiddle absentmindedly, weaving an imaginary snare. “She’s proud of her heritage and always encouraged me to discover our culture, so she got me into learning and studying about it. My interest refined into trapping from there; she was so excited when I made my first proper deadfall trap.” A soft, wistful smile spreads over her face. “What about you, Basuda?”

He thinks of his own childhood, the scarcities and the constant desire for more than the bare minimum to get by that plagued him and his family. Hard times that drove him toward this path.

“Necessity.” He answers.

“Could you ask what color she likes? It’s for the cake.”

Maxim regards the request with a measure of bemusement. “Me?”

Emmanuelle puts her hands on her hips expectantly. “If you don’t mind, Basuda. The other women and I are busy doing some last day preparation for the surprise birthday party. You’re friendly with her, right? Report back as soon as you can. Thanks!” She disappears down the hallway with a wave.

He shakes his head at the GIGN operator, but makes a turn for Tina’s usual haunt.

“Hey, there.” Tina greets him before returning to the clipboard on her lap. He takes a seat beside her, contemplating how to broach the subject of color favoritism without making his ulterior motive obvious.

Maxim opens up with small talk, nothing too forward –how her last mission went, if Six announced anything he might’ve missed, if she too had seen Dominic slinking off somewhere to play a prank on another unsuspecting rookie. Her responses are as succinct as ever, but she’s obviously focused her work.

“I hear they’re going to implement customization options for our weapons in the VR room.” This catches her attention, and she momentarily puts down her work.

“Oh?”

“Experimental thing they’re working on, so just basic colors right now. They said something about improving morale or something, but I don’t really understand; at least they’re not charging us for this.”

Tina shoots him a good-humored glance. “Don’t be such a bore, Maxim. I don’t see the harm in it, even if it seems like a rather impractical thing to be prioritizing.”

Finding a good opportunity to spring the question, he asks what her color she’d apply, anticipating her answer to be somewhere between the monochromatic scale or perhaps a pale blue similar to the button-down she’s wearing.

“Red,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, waving the pen in her hand. She takes his surprised silence with a smirk, triumphant over his stupefaction as she marks off something on the report with a neat red check. Once she’s finished writing off the report, she answers the inquiring expression on his face.“It’s the color of my first car. 1994 Corvette convertible.”

He raises a brow at her astoundingly simple answer. She shrugs slightly.

“I was a bit of a wild child when I was younger. Nothing crazy, still made good grades and all that, but I would turn into a speed demon after school. My friends and I would load up into that car and we’d go racing through the streets with the top down.” She distractedly reaches up to the short curve of her hair. “My hair was a lot longer then, and I would always end up whipping my friends in the face with it from the wind…”

“Doesn’t sound like you at all now.” He admits after a pause, with no small sense of amazement.

Tina’s smirk returns. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Maxim.”

The unspoken invitation hangs enticingly in the air.

When he gets up to leave, thoughts of a fresh-faced Tina with long hair waving wildly in the wind and a vibrant hue of red course his mind.

The cake ends up being an imitation of the Canadian flag. Tina chuckles at the originality (or rather, the lack thereof), blowing out candles atop the frosting. She declares the bear trap charm Maxim gets for her gun the best birthday present this year, much to Eliza’s disappointment as she lowers the novelty gift she brought in hand.

Her eyes crinkle in delight when she learns that the charm can open and close, snapping it over Maxim’s finger.

“It’s the Lunar New Year this week.” Tina says as way of explanation as she pulls on a jacket, ready to depart the base. “Nothing important happening right now, so you can come as well.”

Maxim heads along with her, intrigued by the underlying excitement in her tone.

A botanical garden is hosting a Lunar New Years-themed event, decking the space in bright scarlet and gold. Rich smells from the vendor stalls outside the entrance manage to bleed through and blend with the floral fragrance within; Peking duck and lemon balm isn’t a terrible combination of scents, as Maxim finds out.

Further into the garden the scent of food fades, and at the back is a large open area rife with assorted florae arranged to spell out Chinese characters. Jade dragons guard the veranda wrapping around the building, teeth bared in fierce grimaces to temper the buttery-yellow chrysanthemums at their feet.

Tina’s been uncharacteristically talkative today, readily pointing out the different symbols and décor and such to explain their meaning and context. Maxim notes the ease in her posture, the near-constant if not subtle smile on her face, the misty quality of her eyes. Her words are still clipped, austere, but something akin to nostalgia drenches every sentence.

 _Home_ , he thinks.

Tina stops at a partition of vermillion flowers, kneeling to get a better look. Maxim squats alongside her.

She runs a finger over the bunched petals. “Peonies represent peace in Chinese culture. They’re also supposed to be the ideal gift for the twelfth wedding anniversary.” She straightens up to face him, eyes creased with burgeoning amusement. “We’ve had each other’s acquaintance for a year now. Twelve months. Close enough, right?”

She presses a single peony, vividly red and full, to his chest and he cups the blossom in his hand, enveloping hers as well.

They hold each other’s gaze, finding something silent and wanted in each other’s company.

Neither is sure who moves first, but underneath the old veranda and a gentle breeze playing a soft melody on the chime, their lips meet for a quiet moment in time.

They don’t make mention of their shared time outside active duty.

He murmurs to the other Russians in their native tongue, whatever their conversation might be – the current mission, possible hot spots for terrorist activity, matters of their country, drinking, women (as long as Lera isn’t around).

She teases Sebastien, the grumpy Québécois he is, and indulges in womanly matters with the other female operators: painted nails for their fingerless gloves, mission-related chattering, and the murky prospect of settling down one day.

Her gaze lingers more on his face than on his hands as he fiddles with his gadgets, though. And his hand might accidentally brush hers as he passes a full clip of ammo at the shooting range. Someone idly makes note of how often they sit with each other in the mess hall.

Both agree that their work takes precedence over their relationship.

It’s a little awkward at first, when Tina brings Maxim home with her.

With some time off, they’d decided to spend theirs together, cementing their relationship as something serious. Maxim makes up some bullshit excuse to Aleksander for why he’s not headed back home while Tina furtively packs their things. It’s a little juvenile, like sneaking your high school crush through the window while your parents are out, but it’s also a little exhilarating; they spend the plane ride home restraining self-satisfied mirth.

When they finally make it back to her place, Tina tells him where the bathroom and bedroom are before collapsing on her mattress. Maxim has barely put down his luggage before she drags him down with her, letting out the laughter she’d been holding in.

“Aren’t you jetlagged?” He says, chuckling all the while.

“Aren’t you excited that we’re finally alone?” Her hands are already working off his jacket and her smile is all too inviting.

They’re all wrapped up in each other when the doorbell rings.

Tina unloads a string of curses as she rushes to the foyer, straightening her clothes along the way; Maxim blinks, having never heard her curse so much. “I completely forgot about my parents,” Tina hisses, panicked. Maxim has also never seen Tina look so frayed, and he can’t help but be amused. “Wipe that smirk off your face and come here. I guess it’s a good time as any to introduce you to my parents.” At that, his smirk drops.

Her parents are a little nonplussed to see Maxim beside her, but quickly shift to pleasantries and introductions. Catching the pleased look in her mother’s eye, Tina is relieved when the topic of her colleague staying at her home is barely mentioned. As her parents depart, however, her mother cheerily calls out,” Well, it’s good to see you home, honey. I hope Maxim will be here when we drop by next!”

Tina can only give a meek wave back.

“Next time, we’re going to your place. Not mine.” She grouses later underneath her afghan and Maxim’s arm, draped across the couch as they marathon the entire Star Wars anthology on Showcase.

“Are you so eager for us to get acquainted with both of our parents?” Maxim asks. “My parents will not be as easy as yours.” He rubs his face roughly, already imagining the situation.“They’ve been asking when I’ll settle down and give them grandchildren.”

Tina lets out a guffaw, smacking him on the arm. “Jesus, Max. Way early on the train for that.”

“I’m not kidding, Tina. My mother especially will be hounding you all about it when you come.”

“And yet you seem so ready to have me over.” Tina teases; Maxim merely gives her a look in return.

After running the entire marathon, they retreat wearily to the bedroom, settling for the night.

“You know,” Tina says between a yawn,” you’ll have to take me someplace nice. St. Petersburg is _the_ tourist spot in Russia, but I want you to take me somewhere you like.”

“I know a good hunting place,” Maxim responds immediately,” and it’ll be good for you to experience hunting in Russia.”

“You spoil me.” She says with a light laugh before snuggling under the sheets and his warmth.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Tina narrows her eyes at the man sitting across from her.

Ryad’s grin only grows wider. “Do you think you’re being discreet?”

Tina cocks an eyebrow, putting down her spoon. “Pardon?”

“Do you think no one notices, try as you might? That even as you behave so professionally, some things still slip through the cracks?”

Tina sighs; though she quite likes the Spanish operator, he could be exasperating at times with his line of questioning. “Where are you going with this, Ramírez?” She asks over a bowl of oatmeal she’d unrepentantly drowned in brown sugar and blueberries.

“Surnames, now? I must be irritating you.” He shrugs those broad shoulders of his and flashes a more charismatic smile. “ _Lo siento_.”

She rolls her eyes but her amused expression betrays her. “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”

“You and Maxim.”

Her response is even-toned. “We’re friends, yes.”

“No need to play coy, I won’t say anything.” Ryad puts up his hands. “But don’t think you’ve gone entirely unnoticed. Like that time the both of you went home, for instance; even Aleksander can put two and two together.”

“He can apparently chatter as well.” Tina replies, unamused.

“Hah! Don’t be angry; I had to pry it out of him. Took an astonishing number of drinks, I can tell you. And I already had my suspicions beforehand.”

She knows she can trust Ryad, and with some operators having previous histories together that inter-team relationships aren’t exactly off-limits, but there’s a sour taste in her mouth despite her sugary oatmeal. “Just keep it to yourself and maybe I won’t put down a mousetrap where you least expect it.”

Her tone is flippant, but Ryad can pick up on the underlying current of worry. He pantomimes locking his mouth with a key. “My lips are sealed, Tina.”

“Is he alright?” Tina asks breathlessly. “Is he able to take visitors?”

The doctor takes off his glasses, wearily smiling at her. “Yes and yes. In fact, his teammates visited a little before you.”

Tina can’t help the great sigh of relief that escapes her, pent-up tension beginning to ease from her body; the wrinkle in her brow fades and the crease of her eyes becomes less severe.

“It’s fortunate Doctor Gustave was able to stabilize him the moment he was injured.” He pauses, examining her expression. “He’ll be drowsy or sleeping from the medication, but loved ones are welcome to see him.” To her credit, Tina says nothing and heads on in the recovery room, giving the doctor a nod of thanks.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Tina makes her way over to Maxim’s side; chairs set adjacent to his bed and a half-empty bottle on the nightstand are telling remnants of the Russian operators’ visit. He looks as bad as she expected, given what she’d been told, but he seems easy and at rest.“Maxim?” She inches closer, calling his name softly on probable chance that he might be sleeping.

Blearily, his eyes open, sliding sluggishly to the right to meet her face. “Tina?” He sounds groggy and distant.

Tina touches his bed frame, not wanting to disturb him further. “Just wanted to check up on you. Get some rest, Max. I’ll be back when you’re feeling better.” He nods, just barely cognizant, and she waits until he’s fallen back asleep before she leaves.

She visits sometime later, and just as she opens the door, Maxim’s teammates walk out. She tenses for a moment, but they say nothing, and Timur briefly puts his hand on her shoulder as they pass by. Tina straightens her shoulders before entering the room.

“Max, that bottle better have been nowhere near your lips.”

Maxim sets down the vodka, a smile spread over his face; though thoroughly battered and bruised, he looks slightly less awful than days ago. “It’s supposed to be motivation for getting better sooner.”

“Right.” She takes seat on one of the chairs beside her hospital bed. “How are you?” Her hand reaches for his, gently taking it in her own. “And don’t tell me that machismo I know you told your teammates.” She adds sternly.

“How I look is a good description of how I’m feeling about now.” He admits; he puts her hand to his face, leaning into her touch.

A laden sigh escapes her. Her thumb caresses a well-purpled bruise on his cheekbone.

“I read the report. Were you trying to make it into a suicide mission?” She smiles at him, meaning to make a joke, but the tears spill from her eyes.

“Tina.”

“No, Max. If Gustave hadn’t been in the adjacent room – if you were even a foot closer to that bomb –” She’s close to choking on her words, futilely trying to keep her voice in check.

“The doctor was there, I was just out of the radius, and hundreds of lives were saved.” Maxim cuts in, frowning. “I was the closest one to bomb and we were out of time. Would you have not done the same?”

“This is about you,” Tina replies heatedly,” not me.” Her hand is shaking. “If you – If I – I would have –”

“We can’t promise safety, not in our line of work. We knew the risks going in. The sacrifices we have to be willing to take.” He says calmly. “And we agreed on our work before us.”

The room is seemingly leeched of all warmth. In its place, a suffocating quiet fills every corner of the room.

Tina silently withdraws herself, getting up in one motion. His eyes follow her to the door.

“You’re right.” She responds finally. “Get some rest, Maxim.”

She leaves him, alone and hurting.

She still visits him afterward, of course. They’re professionals, colleagues, friends.

Tina apologizes on her next visit and so does he, but something hangs between them. It’s a strange pressure, but Tina seems to ignore it and he’s exhausted just trying to recover. Neither pushes the matter.

“That doesn’t look that appetizing.”

“It’s not the worst I’ve had.”

“I’m afraid of what your worst is.”

“I could bring a pack of cards.”

“Unless we invite the doctor and nurses, it’ll be a boring game.”

“Right. Never mind.”

“You don’t have to go out of your way to visit me so often.”

“It must be boring, just waiting to heal up.”

“I have the others for company, too.”

“I know.”

“I had this book on base I never got to finishing…”

“I know which one; I’ll bring it next time, or I can ask Shuhrat. There’s also a few books I could recommend as well.”

“Thank you.”

“They say you’re just about well enough to start PT.”

He flexes his arms, rolls his shoulders with ease. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“That’s different from the usual cards and flowers.” Maxim gestures to the vase Tina cradles in her arm.

Tina sets it on the windowsill with utmost care, delicately turning it to present toward him. Once she’s satisfied with its arrangement, she takes a seat beside him and replies,” It’s… a gift from my parents.” The expression on her face is unreadable, but it’s been like that for awhile.

“Ah. Tell them I appreciate it.”Not knowing what else to say, Maxim instead straightens up from his bed to examine the gift. It’s rather simple, streamlined in design, but elegant. Sunlight diffused from the window blinds highlights its whitish color: the palest, lightest shade of green. It looks expensive. It looks personal.

He gets up from his bed to hold it; he can walk fine now and will be able to do light exercise in a little time.

“After they clear you from the hospital, what then?” Tina asks suddenly.

Maxim shrugs. “It’s very nice – I’ll put it in my living space somewhere.”

“I meant us, not the damn vase.” She replies tartly. Her eyes widen at her own words, and Tina immediately looks away, shamefaced. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Max.”

He looks up from the gift. “It’s fine, Tina.”

“No, it’s not just about that; I want to apologize about everything these past few...” Tina trails off as she slumps in her seat, rubbing her eyes with her hand. “What you said – what we agreed to – you were right. My emotions got the better of me then, and I was acting childishly.”

“We’re coolheaded people; I know you wouldn’t lose your temper over something trivial. I still believe I did the right thing, but I understand your feelings.” Maxim replies without hesitation before awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Tina only averts her gaze, and he almost reaches for her.

Slowly, she makes her way bedside, each step stretching into eternity. Eyes still turned aside, her fingers jitter across the bed railing as she opens her mouth to speak.

“I miss us.” She admits. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had before, but I don’t want this estrangement between us; we were friends at the very least.”

“We’re still that.” His hand finally finds hers. “We can still be more.”

Her head jerks up, her expression startled.

“I missed you as well, Tina. I think we can still work it out, if we’re willing.”

She bites her lip. “Even if we disagree on such fundamental things?”

He chortles, a first in so long. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. No hard feelings.”

A small smile breaks on her face like a slim ray of sunlight through clouds; her eyes creased and tentatively happy. “Whatever happens, happens.” She says in agreement. Her hand squeezes his.

They enjoy each other’s company for a long moment, fingers entwined.

Tina hums, breaking their gaze to look at the vase she brought.

“What?”

“Speaking of cards and flowers, did they get thrown away? It’s looking gloomy in here, Max.”

“Flowers wilted; they put the cards away for me. It _is_ a little bare,” he agrees.

“I’ll bring flowers next visit, something to put in the vase, brighten up the room a bit.” She pauses, considering her options. “No peonies, though.”

His recovery goes well, almost too exceedingly so.

Maxim is back and soon ready for deployment faster than Tina realizes it, and she still blinks a few times as if to dispel the picture of health the Russian operator presents before her.

“And I thought you’d be happier to see me better.” He says to her, nursing a shot of vodka in hand.

“I’m too busy restraining myself from removing that glass from your hand.” Tina replies with a teasing grin. Her expression immediately changes to one of suspicion. “They _did_ say you can drink now, right?”

Her place feels as intimate as ever, and they’re free to indulge each other like this as much as they’d like here. The vodka from his hospital days sits on the coffee table, freshly and finally opened and accompanied by Tina’s own untouched shot. The vase has made a home on her fireplace despite being her gift to him; it gleams dully against the flickering light of the flames.

He crosses over to her side, securing her with one arm. “Of course.” He says genially and not at all assuringly.

“ _Max_.”

But she’s unable to contain the laughter in her voice and she embraces him back, resting her head on him. He’s warm and the scent of alcohol hangs off him in a way that she somehow finds comforting; Tina closes her eyes and gladly submits to their indulgence.

It was supposed to be a mission like any other.

Crimson blooms from the center of her chest, and for a split second, Maxim thinks of red peonies and jade vases and petal-soft lips beneath the veranda.

There’s this horrible astonishment on her face, like she can’t comprehend what’s happened below her collarbone. Her hands come up to her chest, red petals spilling above, and the way she staggers to the ground is the most ungraceful he’s ever seen her.

His finger reflexively squeezes the trigger; his PMM buries a bullet between the terrorist’s eyes. Once he’s secured the area around them, he immediately turns to his partner.

“The priority?” Tina struggles into a slumped sitting position, hand clenching red over her chest. Her voice is raspy and breathless.

Maxim pushes her back into a lying position, and it’s telling how easily she yields to the smallest amount of force. “Safe. The others have secured them.” He answers; his voice is low and urgent. “Don’t move.”

“Not like I can.” Tina chuckles for a split second, only to cough up blood right after. Her breathing is growing more and more haggard.

“Save your strength,” he says, before speaking rapidly into his communicator, requesting immediate aid. “I’m going to staunch the bleeding now,” Maxim returns his attentions back to her. “Just keep breathing and don’t close your eyes.”

He’s not really thinking so much as doing – doing whatever he can to stop all the blood from leaving her body, hands working in manic frenzy, eyes pinpointing where exactly to bind the wound. It’s not until Tina speaks up that he’s grounded again. “Max, please. Look at me.”

She sounds faint. He automatically pushes the half-mask past his chin and throws his hood back. Seconds stretch into minutes, years, as she extends one bloodied, gloved hand to his cheek, smearing it red. Her eyelids flicker as she struggles to remain focused on him.

He says her name, sees how faded she’s become in just a matter of minutes. He must look a sight because then she curls the hand on his face.

“It’s alright, Max. I’m not feeling much at all.”

Her eyes take on a strange color in the light, like liquid gold, and a kind of expression he wishes he didn’t understand. Her hand falls from his face to the bloody mess of her chest below; he catches it in his own, and it feels so cold, even through their gloves.

The smallest of exhales escape her, so miniscule and insignificant that her body doesn’t even move with the action. “You’re warm, Max.” She manages to smile at him, one corner of her mouth upturned.

The crease around her eyes relaxes. Then the rest of her relaxes.

He sits there, her head in his lap and her hand in his until the others find them. Peonies blossom in the space around them, between them, catching in her hair and her clothes and his gloves and his lap.

It’s a bitter fragrance.

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm in the process of editing and pushing out all my works i've never finished over the years and oH BOI this one was a doozy. why do i always hurt the ships i love most :c (i guess if you just cut out the last bit it's a happy story then???)


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